Unguarded Moment
by little hecate
Summary: Actually a series of unguarded moments... Draco/Seamus SLASH, though mild. PWP warning. You'd just have to read it...
1. Piece of Me

Body Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like to play with them. They belong to one goddess, J.K. Rowling. She's the one making money off them, I certainly am not.

Warning: This is slash. There's no gratuitous sex, but it does involve some sordid romance between two persons who both happen to be of the male persuasion.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/ Seamus Finnegan

Summary: A letter of sorts from Draco to Seamus. Based on the Menswe@r song, _Piece of Me_. Companion piece to Common People.

Piece of Me

Trust is overrated. Or so I try to convince myself. Really, that attitude is the only thing that keeps me sane. When everything between us is based on nothing, trust as both concept and word never enters into it. Neither of us holds any expectations of the other, for expectation goes hand in hand with trust. Without expectation there can be no hope of moving forward. We've been doing the same thing for almost a year now, and I'm still not sure why. Eleven months and twenty nine days later and we still haven't moved past our first encounter. It was rushed and hollow and nothing has changed. All we ever do is run around in circles. It's like work. Wake up, get on the bus, sit at the desk, punch the card, get on the bus, eat, shit, and sleep. Repeat. Day after day after day after... you get the point. Our routine doesn't much vary. Clothes come off, lubrication goes on, you push into me, thrust, come, clothes go on. Repeat. Day after day after day for an entire year. Almost. And still it's the same as it was the first time.

Love is overrated. Or so you consistently show me. I often ask myself how I can be in love with a person to whom I don't even exist. A person who doesn't know me at all, though I could tell you every facet of who you are. From your red-gold hair to your love of Muggle mythology. From the pronounced canines that show beautifully when you smile to the melancholy way you hold your head as you leave. Yet at the end of it all, the fact that you feel nothing for me overcomes any chance we might have of making a successful go of it.

Affection is overrated. Perhaps I say this because I don't know what it means to be affectionate with you. I would love to believe that sex is a secondary thing. I've never thought of sexuality in terms of homo, hetero, and bi. For me, attraction transcends gender. But what we have is sex. Bottom fucking line. Nothing more and nothing less. I don't even know what it feels like to kiss you. I know what your mouth feels like on the rest of my body, but that just doesn't make up for it. All I've ever wanted was for you to take me in your arms and kiss me on the mouth. I would give it all for that. An eternity of loneliness without you would be acceptable if you would just show me one sodding sign of affection. But it will never happen, will it?

If I seem to act unkind, rest assured that it is only because I don't know how else to be. Sometimes I try too hard, sometimes I go too far. But it's just my way of showing you you own a piece of me. A piece of me that will forever be yours and yours alone. I want to be kind to you; I want to show you that I love you. But you've made it abundantly clear that you don't need it.

Detachment from the rest of the world has been the only thing holding me to you. My greatest fear is that you will tire of this crazy situation. That you will tire of me. But all it would take is a bit of patience. Maybe, if you gave me a chance, I might surprise you. Maybe I could hurt you. Anything to make you show something for me. All I want is for you to cling to me as I cling to you. Even just for a moment.

Seamus, when I don't think straight and leave it up to you to compensate, know that that's my way of showing you you own a piece of me. 


	2. Common People

Body Disclaimer: Only the plot (or lack thereof) belongs to me. The gorgeous creatures involved belong to J.K. Rowling. And I'm not making any money or whatever off of it, either. This is all for my own self-satisfaction.

Warning: This is some mild slash, though it does involve a romantic relationship between two men. Should you have a problem with this sort of thing, you may want to turn back.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy/ Seamus Finnegan

Summary: A letter of sorts from Seamus to Draco. Loosely based on the Pulp song, _Common People._ Sister piece to Piece of Me.

Common People

Charming, isn't it? Having no money, that is. Living day to day and trying just to get by. There's nothing as satisfying for you as watching my everyday life play out. To you, it's just a game and when you tire of it you don't have to play anymore. You can go right back to Mummy and Daddy and forget that there's a whole world out there that's totally at war with itself. As much as I would love to hate you for it, I can't. There's some hormone that releases itself in my blood every time I see you. And every time I touch you that hormone threatens to replace every cell of blood in my body. All I want is to be absorbed in who you are and not have to be separated by a pocketbook.

Summer holiday a few months back you told me that you wanted to know how I live. Flattered out of my mind at the prospect of you taking an interest in me, I said, "I'll see what I can do." The supermarket seemed a suitable starting place. "Pretend you've got no money," I told you. And you just smiled and held my hand. The whole excursion proved to be very amusing to you, didn't it? Smirking while I showed you how to compare prices. Funny to have to worry about where the next meal's coming from, right? Not that you'd know what that's like.

Someday I would like you to try and live like me. Rent a flat above a shop with someone else 'cause you just can't make it on your own. Cut your hair and get a job. Eight hours a day, six days a week because your wages don't count for shit. Would you get any satisfaction from the knowledge that you've got what you've got because you worked your arse off for it? Or would you resent it for forcing you to get dirt under your perfectly manicured fingernails? Everything I have, I worked for; no one gave it to me. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Although, you did seem to like the pub just down the street. I'd never seen you smoke before. You did look awfully sexy all bent over the pool table with a fag hanging out the corner of your mouth. You made me fall in love with you at that moment. You were so... natural. Like it didn't really matter that you'd never been there before, that it was my world. Friends that I'd grown up with thought you to be one of them. They thought you were a common person, too. And for the briefest of moments you were.

Then we went back to the shabby house I share with my mother and my brother and my grandmum and it was torture. Because as natural and real as you were in the pub, that would all have to fade. You come from a totally different world than I do; you've got an image to maintain. My heart broke, you know, when you fucked that image the whole time you were with me. Were you to have been your typical arrogant self, I could have hated you. Why won't you just let me hate you? It can't ever work, so why can't I get you out of my system? Because you're too bloody perfect. Your whole life is too bloody perfect.

Besides, you'll never really get it right, anyway. You'll be laying in bed, watching the roaches climb the walls and when you tire of it, you can call your dad and he'll make it all go away. Why couldn't you just sneer at me and the way I live? Why couldn't you just leave the world I know that you hate? How can you transcend the way you grew up with such ease?

Please, Draco, be a common person like me. Because even if you had nothing at all, you will always be extraordinary to me. 


	3. Dream Another Dream

Body Disclaimer: These characters belong to one miss J.K. Rowling. I am only borrowing them for a bit of play. I promise to return them unharmed. I mean, I don't want to be sued for the money I'm not making from this.

Warning: This is SLASH. That means that contained here there is a male/male relationship happening. Should that sort of thing bother you for whatever reason, you may want to turn back now. There is no hard core sex or anything, just two dead-sexy boys loving each other. *Giggles*

Pairing: Seamus Finnegan/ Draco Malfoy

Summary: Draco and Seamus finally get it up to tell each other how they feel. Wait a minute... Did I really use those words? *blushes furiously* Uhm... yeah.

Notes: Kind of follows up both Common People and Piece of Me.

Dream Another Dream

Slight shift of the head is totally imperceptible to everyone around us. But it is done with a kind of careful determination that I have come to recognize as acknowledgment. It is really the only acknowledgment either of us grant the other. Aside from staring. This simple gesture makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter with wild abandon. Pity no one else knows this. Not even him. He's no idea how desperately I want to declare my love for him from all the rooftops in the world. No idea how desperately I want to declare it to him.

Communication is not one of my strong points. For the last *calculates* almost twelve months I've been resisting the urge to confess my true feelings for him. Wow. Twelve months. That's a year! This is a record for me, I think. And the sad part about it is that there isn't even anything to record. I mean, I just don't think that being somewhat regular *everyday* fuck buddies with a person counts as a legitimate relationship. But honestly, I wouldn't have time to pursue anything real even if I _did_ want to. There's all sorts of homework to be doing... N.E.W.T.'s are coming up... Shit... And I just can't imagine being without him.

Everyday for what seems like forever has been spent in agonizing waiting. Waiting for the time when we will meet and... objectify each other. There's never any feeling in what we do. At least, not on his end. Honestly, I try my hardest not to just fuck him, I try to make love to him. The fact that he isn't really all that attentive kind of blows my intention right out of the water, though. Just once, I want him to _feel_ me. Feel me in the depths of his being; feel me projecting nothing but simple love toward him. But I don't know if he even _can_ feel.

Fantasizing about the way it could be is the only thing that keeps me sane. I like to think that the fact that we're in separate houses doesn't separate us. But it does. I like to think that our parent's financial situations don't separate us. But they do. Above all else, really, it is money that comes between us. Petty, really. Maybe that's easy for me to say because I've never been in need of anything money can buy. Or maybe it's easy for me to say because I need all the things that money _can't_ buy. All the things that he could give me.

Oh! He's already leaving the table. There's Dean, following right after. I wonder if he knows about what Seamus does to me after the lights go out? In all likelihood, he knows nothing. Seamus is probably absolutely ashamed of what he does with me. What would all his friends and fellow Gryffindors think if he were to confess that he's been shagging me senseless for almost a year now? Probably sick at the sight of him, they would. Or sick at the sight of me.

**

Moonlight filters through the trees, illuminating the spot where he will enter the clearing. Summer's almost here, so we've taken to being outside. I made it a point to arrive early tonight. Tonight is not going to happen like every other night happens. Tonight he is going to listen to me talk.

My breath catches in my throat as he comes into view, just a few feet from where I am sitting. He is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen... The moonlight makes his skin look deathly pale, which I think is a nice contrast to the reddish gold of his hair. He's not wearing a robe tonight, he is wearing Muggle clothes: red trousers that look as though they have been applied to his body with a paintbrush, bare feet, and a loose, half-unbuttoned white poet shirt. I- I've never seen him dress like this... He- He's absolutely _stunning_ .

"God... You look..."

"Good?" he helps, smiling. Damn that smile. That smile could melt the polar ice caps, it is so sodding _hot_ .

"No, great, radiant, beautiful, stunning... _gorgeous_ ," I breathe. He is actually blushing! "You... I've never seen anything so beautiful in all my life."

The meter of space between his body and mine reduces to half a meter as he drops to sit in front of me. There is definitely a smile on his face, but the look in his eyes betrays mixed emotion. Battle is obviously ensuing in his mind. He clearly doesn't know what to think of what I've just said to him. Perhaps he thinks I'm lying...

"Seamus?" Whisper so low, I'm not sure he heard.

Tears fill his eyes, but the smile on his lips broadens. Just slightly. "Seamus?"

"That is your name, right?" I joke.

He lets out a breath of relieved laughter. "Yeah, that is my name... You've never said it to me before... I honestly wasn't sure if you _did_ know it."

"Oh, love!" I sort of exclaim quietly, moving my hands very consciously to my mouth. I mean, it is rather impolite to gape openmouthed at the guy you're trying to woo.

Now he is grinning as he gently takes hold of my wrists to move them away from my mouth. I've got to be dreaming. For the first time, I've got his tongue in my mouth. For the first time, he is kissing me!.. His lips are so soft and they are literally _burning_ ... His tongue is slow but insistent in searching out mine... Hands are holding my neck... No! He's pulling away.

I mentally shake myself to find myself cradled in his arms. I have to find my voice. "You've never done that to me before." Great. That'll woo him.

He looks at the ground and for a moment I regret what I said. Then again, I wanted to talk tonight, so that's what we're going to do. When he looks up, I see that the tears have actually spilled, leaving glittering trails down his porcelain face. "I guess..." he trails off.

Pulling myself onto his lap, I kiss the tears still on his cheeks. "Please don't cry."

Grasping my face in his hands, he holds me just a hairsbreadth away from his own. "Are you for real?" he whispers breathlessly.

I laugh, "If I'm not, then I don't ever want to wake from this dream."

Taking that as my word, he again captures my mouth in his. I've never been kissed like this before... long.. slow.. deep.. _genuine_ kisses... Tongue playing softly on my lips... Lips pressed against mine.... Tongue dancing in a hopeless ballet with my own.... Drowning.... Simply _drowning_ in him...

Feeling him bury his face in my neck brings me back to Earth. He's clutching me to him almost possessively. It feels nice to be possessed. But only by him. Always only by him. "I love you," I think out loud.

He grins against the skin of my neck, making me shiver all the way down to my toes. The familiar passion rises in me, but that will have to wait. There will be no fevered lust tonight; tonight I want nothing more than just to be with him. "I never thought I would hear you say those words," he says before assaulting my neck with kisses. When he reaches my ear he whispers, in a scandalously seductive manner, "Draco,... I am so _insanely_ in love with you..." he mumbles something into my mouth... It doesn't really matter. I heard the important part.

*****

So, what do you think? I rather like it, myself. Then again, I'm totally biased as I have finally found my pairing! And OOHHH what a pairing it is! Anyhow, I do plan on continuing this. Should anyone like it. And please, do review. I live for it. Thanks, loves! Cheers! 


	4. Every Waking Moment

Body Disclaimer: Even though I am reasonably certain that you know the drill, I'll throw this at you just for good measure. I don't own the characters or places portrayed herein. I can assure that I am not getting paid for this. As though anyone would _want_ to pay for it...

Warning: Although there's little more than kissing and just general relationship shite, it does occur between two persons who happen to be of the male persuasion. If this bothers you, you might do yourself a favour and run away, so that you don't soil your mind with such impure imagery.

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Seamus/ Draco

Chapter Summary: Seamus and Draco have breakfast together. It's cute.

Every Waking Moment

Since last night everything between us has changed. Profoundly. At this very moment, he is smiling at me from across the room. I never thought I would live to see the day that he would smile openly at me for the whole world to see. I've not been able to wipe the grin off my face since we left each other at the foot of the stairs last night. Ah, shit. Now I've lost whatever semblance of control I had and I'm just giggling madly.

"All right, Seamus?"

"Uh, yeah, Harry. Fine, thanks. And how are you?" I stutter between giggles. Sick what that boy does to me, isn't it? Draco, I mean.

"What's up?" he asks, a smile cracking his face. Apparently, my mood is contagious as he is rapidly joining me in my giggling fit.

"Lots of things, I'm sure."

"Riiight." He's got a look on his face that says, 'I know there's something up and you're not getting away until you spill.' I know that look all too well; he stole it from me.

"What?" I try to pretend I'm innocent, but he just scowls at me.

"You're awfully cheerful today. I take it it went well with Malfoy last night, then?"

My jaw drops to the floor. "How the hell...?"

"Oh, honestly, do you think we haven't wondered where it is that you run off to every night?"

"We?"

"Yeah, me and Ron and Dean and Neville. You know, your roommates? You do have those, you know."

"Shove off."

"Should I take that as a yes?"

As hard as I'm trying to look stern, I know there's no point. I just _can't_ wipe this grin off my face. "What do you think?"

"I think it's about damn time."

"You mean.. You're not disappointed in me, then?"

"For what?"

"Well, he's not exactly been sweet to you, has he?"

"Yeah, but he makes you smile, right?"

"That's for damn sure."

"Well, then, that's all that really counts, isn't it?"

"Oi, Seamus!" Dean says out of the clear blue sky. He's been involved in another soccer- Quidditch argument with Ron. _Biiiig_ surprise, that.

"What?" I ask, though I already know what he's going to say. He's going to say, 'Tell Ron that Quidditch is NOT better than soccer.' Or maybe, 'Tell Ron soccer's not boring.' Or, 'Tell Ron to shove it up his-'

"Tell Ron that soccer's not boring." Can I call them, or can I call them?

Rolling my eyes, I give my usual response. "Ron, leave Dean alone. Soccer isn't all that bad if you're not paying attention."

"Like you're one to talk," Dean replies, feigning irritation at me.

"Fuck off, ya' bleeding wanker." He grins before continuing the conversation.

Draco is approaching from behind me. He's still a good two or three meters behind me. Even though I'm not looking at him, the tingling sensation in every cell of my skin is telling me he's there. Instinctively, I sit in the vacant seat at my right so that he can sit down, too. He takes my invitation without hesitation, smiling all the while. The table goes silent as everyone turns to stare at us. Draco's hand is squeezing my own tightly in apprehension. Quite suddenly the table erupts in cheers, and he lets go.

Standing up, he takes a deep bow, not even letting the slightest trace of embarrassment seep into his features. "Thank you, I'm glad to see you too," he says. "Though, was the applause absolutely necessary? I think you may have given Seamus a heart attack."

For some bizarre reason, I am finding it nearly impossible to breathe. Maybe it's the unexpected waves of happiness radiating from Draco as he takes his seat next to me again, or it could be the way that even Ron is smiling at us like we're the most damnably adorable thing he's ever seen. It could very well be due to the fact that Draco's hand has crept along my leg and is now resting on my thigh, squeezing a bit in a teasing way I know him all too well for. Perhaps it's even the way I can't control my own face as my lips curl into a grin so broad it almost hurts my face, but I don't care because Draco has clutched my hand in his once again and is actually letting his emotions make their way to his face. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen: my sullied little angel actually _smiling_! It's truly glorious, _amazing_.

Across the room, half the Slytherins are gaping at us. Pansy's got the most deliciously repulsed look on her face that isn't really all that unlike her normal expression, now that I think about it, but I know that she's thoroughly abashed that Draco is sitting at the Gryffindor table. _With me_! There are a few, though, that either don't care or haven't noticed.

"Want to give Pansy something to _really_ brood about?" I ask Draco. I'm not really sure that he'll let me, but then again, he did take the initiative to come and sit with me at my house table.

He grins, pulling me closer to him so that I can kiss him. It takes absolutely all of my will power not to literally melt into him. Thank goodness I'm sitting down, or I might have to make a scene. Not that I'm not already... No, I'm definitely making a hell of a scene. The whole of the dining hall is now throwing a combination of wolf whistles, cheers, and applause at us. Even Slytherin is looking less hostile and... oh, my god!... the staff table is actually joining in. Dumbledore's actually looking very pleased at us. What the hell is going on?

"Hmm. Never expected that," Draco says, surveying the crowd. He's still extremely untouched by all of it, but he does seem to find it both amusing and flattering.

"I'm missing something, aren't I?" I ask. "Do all these people really know about us?"

"Well, what do you expect when two of the most sought after guys at Hogwarts aren't seeing anyone? Believe me, it's not just been us who got curious, Seamus," Harry says casually as he munches on his toast. As an afterthought he adds, "Once we figured it out, it was abundantly clear that you've got it bad for each other and it's just cool that you're not being stupid anymore."

"We're really that hot, are we?" Draco pipes up, cocking his head to one side.

"Well, yeah," Ron replies. We all turn to stare at him, shocked. He goes red before adding, "Well, it _is_ like common knowledge."

"But not opinion?" Draco teases.

"Yeah, Ron, what does that mean?" Dean adds in. He's so cute when he makes an ass of Ron, especially after one of their standard arguments. It gives him such perverse joy.

"I thought you were seeing Hermione," Parvati says, confused. She's an even worse space case than I am, and that's saying something.

"I _am_ seeing Hermione, _thank you_," he replies with a murderous tone in his voice. He is now the colour of a lobster.

"Come on, Ronnikins, be honest," I coo. "You can be honest with _me_, you know."

"Honestly, Seamus, you know I'm not... like that. All I meant is that if I were, which I'm _not_, but if I _were_, then yes, that might happen to be the case."

"Why, thank you, I'm flattered!" Draco exclaims.

"Don't mention it," he mutters, going back to his now cold eggs.

The rest of breakfast goes by rather uneventfully, thank goodness. Any more of that and I might really have gone into cardiac arrest. I'm really quite thrown. I thought they'd like start a riot or something instead of actually respecting my decision. I wonder if this is really for real... if I'm dreaming again... No, I'm actually wide awake this time. There's too many people here that feel too real for this to be a dream. Draco and the look in his eyes are too real. Too... substantial. I might be able to get used to being conscious... 


	5. Nothing Left to Fear

Body Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns them.

Warning: Slash. Boys digging boys. Don't like it? Go AWAY!

A/N: Kinda written on a whim. I guess I've just really been feeling the need to project love amidst all the hatred these days. Please forgive the sappy shite.

Nothing Left to Fear

Rent a flat above a shop. We did. And it's finally starting to feel like home. It's only got one bedroom, one bathroom, and a tiny kitchen that adjoins with the sitting area. It's probably only about one thousandth of the size of the mansion I grew up in, but it feels more like home than my father's house ever could. It's kinda nice to have somewhere to go after working all day. Somewhere that I can put my own furniture and cook my own food. Well, I don't honestly cook my own food; Seamus does most of the cooking. He would really make an excellent domestic. Yeah, right. He's about as domestic as a werewolf on the full moon.

Right now he's not home; he's off at the airport, picking up Dean. Although he does know how to apparate, he insists upon using Muggle transportation. A result of growing up in the Muggle world, I suppose. Seamus thinks it's quaint, Muggle life. Perhaps this is why he insisted we live the way we do. There are very few magickal things about our lives these days, and I am becoming rather fond of it. Living like Muggles has taught me the value of what we've got, both materially and between us. If only my father could see me now.

Times like these, when Seamus is away, I find my mind wandering to thoughts of my father and all the things he made me do. It's been two and a half years since he was taken away, and still I feel nothing. Perhaps this is a residual effect of the way he raised me. He always taught me never to cry, never show weakness, never care or feel. Caring and feeling were for the weak-minded, emotions not for a Malfoy. But if that were truly the case, then why do I so deeply love Seamus?

The Dark Lord was resurrected at the end of my fourth year at school. I knew what was coming, though it scared the hell out of me. Voldemort's return meant that I was destined to follow in my father's footsteps. Not that I wouldn't have, anyhow, but it just seemed to cement the deal. Sure enough, at the beginning of that summer holiday, I was unwillingly initiated as a Death Eater. Incapable of showing the courage to tell my father to get bent meant that I was going to have to hurt endless amounts of people, wizards and Muggles alike. For an entire year, that is exactly what I did. I was my father's assistant in the Muggle Tortures division of Voldemort's twisted regime. When I returned to Hogwarts for my sixth year, I told Dumbledore what I had done. Instead of turning me in like I expected him to, he just nodded sadly and I then supplied him with a great deal of information regarding Voldemort's activities. This information later led to the destruction of the Dark Lord and the capture of every Death Eater. Including my father.

Should I feel guilty for my lack of feeling for the man? I should miss him. I want to miss him. But I can't. He wasn't necessarily a bad parent or even a bad person. He was just stupid and weak of mind and heart. All right, so branding me with the Dark Mark and holding me to him indefinitely might be considered bad parenting. The worst part of it all is that I can't even feel pity for him. All I can feel is elation that the world is without him. I don't care to think of all the horrid things I watched him do. Thousands of people died at his hands. Lucius knew no remorse, and that is why I feel nothing for him.

Several people died at my own hands, and I will never forgive myself for what I did. Cowardice forced me to obey my father's lord and master. Voldemort never owned me like he owned all the others. Whether he knew this, I cannot say. He must not have, being as I ended up being the one who sold him out. Never once have I ever regretted doing it. Had I not, I would not be watching my friends raise their children, I would not be sleeping beside Seamus every night, my mother would not be anticipating her wedding, Harry would not be coming over for dinner tomorrow, and Justin would not be right beside him. Not a day goes by that the atrocities I committed don't go through my mind at least a thousand fucking times. Justification for my actions has never once even crossed my mind; there is no excuse. The only thing that allows me to go on with my life is knowing that I am sorry for what I did. Every day I try to make up for it as best I can.

Seamus has been my saving grace. Near the end of our sixth year, Voldemort was gone, the Death Eaters had all received the Dementor's Kiss, and we started shagging on a very regular basis. For a year that was all we did. Until I realized that I was hopelessly in love with him and decided that I was going to do everything in my power to make him the happiest person to walk the face of the Earth. I think I'm doing a pretty good job of it. Rarely do we fight, and when we do we end up making up with such intensity that we usually wake the neighbours. It scares me, how in love with him I am. Every time he enters a room my breath catches in my throat. Every night the butterflies in my stomach flutter with wild abandon as I ascend the stairs in anticipation of seeing him.

Were I to die tomorrow, I would die content. I am happy in the knowledge that I loved as fiercely as is humanly possible and been loved as strongly in return. I am happy knowing that he would never hurt me. After all the fucked up things I've done and all the fucked up things that have been done to me, I don't think there's anything left to fear. At the end of it all, there are people who love me and people that I love, and that makes up for everything. If there is one thing I have learned in the short time I have been alive, I have learned that the only important thing is to always have the capacity to love. Seamus has given me all of that and then some. My heart, my soul, my passion for living resides in him. And he knows it.

*****

Um, told you it was sappy. And perhaps a bit disjointed. Ah, well, that is my style, after all. So what do you think? Huh? 


	6. Weeping Wounds That Never Heal

Body Disclaimer: They belong to JKR, I am merely borrowing them for a time.

Warning: This is slash. If you do not know what this means by now, there is no hope for you, but I will recap, anyhow because I am such a sweet individual. There is some male/male interaction here, both consensual and non-consensual. Should this sort of thing twist your knickers, please run along. Here I am not only demonstrating what a sick and twisted person I am, I am flat out telling you so that you don't have to tell me.

Rating: I'm going to go with a strong R here, due to the non-consensual nature of the beginning part.

A/N: Perhaps I should tell you all now that I was in a rather wretched mood and listening to Placebo whilst I wrote this (as though you couldn't tell!) so it is quite... Well.... The thing is, really, I've had it with all the discontent among the people I know who insist upon being melodramatic about their lives. Well, the people that thrive off of drama and make no attempts to better themselves: wankers... I went for some Seamus angst.... This may seem a bit OOC, but just keep an open mind... All right, now I'm just.... Ah, hell, just read the damn thing already!

Weeping Wounds That Never Heal

_I feel like trash. He always takes me to someone else's house. I'm getting sick of it and I want to go home. I rise from the couch but he playfully pulls me back down and tries to kiss me. I tell him no, that I want to go. He just smiles and tries again. What's wrong with him? I push away and stand again, but once again he pulls me down. Now I'm getting scared. He's never done this before. Why _ is_ he doing this? I've told him no before... I'm up and heading toward the door and over my shoulder I tell him that I'm leaving. My stomach meets the floor as he launches himself on me. Out of instinct I start to thrash. By some miracle I throw him off and get up, only to feel his hand painfully gripping my shoulder. Anger is taking the place of fear, and I make the most horrid mistake of my life: I turn around. His fist connects with my jaw and I hear the bones crunch more than I feel the pain. What is he doing to me? Why? He's never hit me before. What did I do? Stumbling back with the force of the blow, he takes a step forward and pushes me just hard enough to throw me off balance. Fear once again replaces anger as I once again try to escape my lover's flaring temper. There are hands on my shoulders and he turns me around. The sliding glass door is now in front of me. God, no. Please, no. He runs at it, full force, using me as a type of battering ram and throws me head first through the door. Actually, that didn't hurt as bad as the bed of shattered glass I'm laying on that's cutting into my face. It feels good to be away from him. Crunch of boots on glass tells me that he isn't gone, after all. Oh, please, God, just make him go away. Crawling is impossible as my entire body is paralyzed. Why can't I move? All I want is to get away from him. Cold air hits my skin. My clothes are no more than little bits of coloured cloth littering the area around us. Oh, no. Please, no. I know what he's going to do. I want to get away. I'm sorry I came here. What did I do to deserve this? I think I scream, but I'm not sure because all I can hear is him laughing. My whole body has gone rigid, paralyzed now with fear. I just want to go home. I just want to get away from him. I just... Oh, God! He pushes into me so roughly that I can literally feel myself tearing apart. I'm so sorry for whatever I did... I'm sorry... Tears are running down my face to mingle with the blood. Why is he hurting me like this? He told me that he loved me. I didn't say anything. Is that why? No one else has ever hurt me like this. Is it karma? It feels like forever. There's a steady stream of warmth running down my thighs. How will I explain this to my mum? She'll be so angry if I tell her. I'll have to go to the doctor, but she can't afford it. He pulls out of me as roughly as he entered and the gush of fluid running out of me is nothing short of terrifying. I don't think I want to know how much of it is blood and how much of it is cum. I hope I get a disease from this so I can just die. I don't want to have to tell anyone. He's looming over me but I can see him. He must have turned me over because the glass is biting into my back and I know I don't have the strength. I hate feeling so fucking weak. My mum's going to be so ashamed of me for letting him do this. All I see is a flash of light in his hand before I feel the searing pain cutting my chest wide open. It's not cold anymore. The blood is warming me and it feels good. I hope that I'm dying. My last conscious thought is hearing him call me a pathetic little weakling. But he doesn't need to tell me. I already know that._

* * * * *

"Seamus, _wake up_ . Please, _just wake up_ ."

My eyes fly open and for a moment I'm still laying on that bed of glass before I realize it was just a dream. Why am I still having these dreams? It happened so long ago, why can't I just forget it? Once again, I wake up covered in cold sweat and my whole fucking body is shaking.

Draco is staring at me, eyes clouded with fear. "Are you all right, love?" he asks almost timidly.

Tears start streaming down my face, my body wracked with violent sobs. All I want to do is shrink down to nothing. I hate thinking about this. I don't want to think about it. I'm all curled up into a ball, but Draco still has his arms around me. He is alternating between kissing my sweat drenched hair and whispering words of solace in my ear: "I love you, baby, it's okay" and "Don't worry, nothing will happen to you" and "I'm here, sweetheart, I'll protect you". He knows the drill; this happens on occasion but mostly when I've had a particularly shitty day or drunk too much whiskey, which I don't do that often because I know how it will inevitably end up.

He's rocking me, cradling me in his arms. For someone as small and skinny as he is, he does have a very strong body. Like I'm one to talk, we're exactly the same size, I'm just more muscular than he is. But I don't give him enough credit because just the fact that he can take me in his arms and wash all the horrors of my past away is... well, you know. There simply aren't words that can explain it.

Finally, I've calmed down, though I know that he is anything but. "Are you all right?"

"_Me_ ? Sod me, are_ you_ all right?" he replies, his voice cracking. Poor thing's got enough to worry about without me waking him up in the dead of night so I can cry about my past. "You really had me worried, you know. I *voice cracks* I can't stand to see you so in pain, I love you so much."

Breaking into a fresh wave of emotion, I try to get closer to him and he gathers all of me in his arms. I know it's completely useless and counterproductive to keep crying, it's all I seem to want to do and at the end of it I'll feel better, so I guess it's worth it. Still, I can't help but feel guilty for resting my burdens on his shoulders. "I'm s-so s-sorry, Draco. I'm just so s-sorry."

Whispering in my ear, he sets it all right again. "Shut up, you've got nothing at all to be sorry for. I love you. Just think about that, okay? Just always know that I love you and I will _always_ love you. No matter what."

"Promise?" I already know how he's going to answer, but it makes me feel better to hear it, anyway.

"With my heart and my body and my soul until we die and die and die again."

The power of those words have the ability to relax me almost back to normal. Even though I know all this to be true, sometimes I just need to hear it for the sake of hearing it. He knows this as well as I do, so he never questions me. He just hugs me tighter and continues to kiss my head when I wrap my arms around his waist.

Once again he asks the same question he always asks when this happens, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Always, I tell him no, that I don't want to talk about it, but now there's something else in me that's making me hesitate. On the one hand, all I want to do is put it to the back of my mind again, but on the other, I know that if I continue to do that I will never be able to get past the pain that insists upon coming to the surface. I've kept it from everyone since it happened. But to be perfectly honest, I don't think that I can bear living alone with it anymore. I tell him, "Yes," but say no more than that. Finding a place to start hasn't occurred to me just yet.

He prompts me by asking, "What is it that you dream about?"

All right, Seamus, it's now or never. *deep breath* Here goes... "You know that scar on my chest? What am I saying? Of course you do, you'd have to be blind not to notice it. And you're certainly not blind, not by far. In fact, I think you've got the best vision of everyone that I know." Oh, god, now I sound like a total ass.

"Uhm, do you want to tell me about it?" Apprehension laces his voice. Not that I can blame him, I mean, I've been laying here, babbling like the fucking idiot that I am and I've got to be scaring the hell out of him.

"Yes, I do, I'm just not sure how."

"It's all right, love," he assures me. "Whatever you want."

Quit fucking around, Seamus. Just do it. Laying down is not the position I want to be in for this so I sit up so that I can look into his eyes while I tell him this. There's something about his eyes that always keeps me calm and focused and I never needed it more than I do right now.

"Seamus, you don't have to if you don't want to."

"But I do want to -I need to- it's just really hard." He gives me an affectionate smile and I feel more at ease with what I've got to spill. "See, this guy I was *chokes* This guy I was seeing a couple of years ago.... God, this is hard. Um, he... he raped me and cut me up and gave me this scar," I finally manage to spit out.

His face now wears a mask of shock. Stunning him wasn't my intention. "Oh, my god..." he trails off. Visibly shaking himself, he regains control over his voice. "When was this?" Confusion accentuates the simple question. Have I been speaking un-clearly?

"Ahm, almost three years ago."

"You were _fifteen_ ?" he asks, clearly taken aback.

"Yeah. Summer holiday before sixth year, actually."

"My god, Seamus, I never knew." Tears are running down his cheeks. Shit. Fuck me, I shouldn't have told him. "I am so sorry. I should have paid more attention."

"It's not like it was very obvious, you know."

"But... *sobs* How... how did this happen?"

"I said I didn't want to go to bed and..." My voice cracks and I don't think I can finish. Clearly, I've already scared the hell out of him, and I don't want to make it any worse.

"It's all right." Clutching my hands in his own, he raises them to his mouth so that he can kiss them, calming me down enough so that I can speak.

"And he beat the shit out of me and raped me and gashed me open."

Once again he's totally shocked. Before saying anything, his eyes flicker down to my chest. "How the hell are you still alive?"

"Actually, the lady whose house we were in came home not long afterward, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Yeah. I was... *chokes on a sob* I was out fucking cold. The doctors at the hospital told me it was a miracle I survived because I lost so much blood. *sobs hard* They said it took over four hours to pick all the glass out of me."

"_Pick_ _the glass out of you_ ?"

"Uh, yeah. He threw me through a glass door and left me laying in it."

Tears continue streaming down his face. I shouldn't have told him. "This guy _really_ did that to you?"

"Well, I certainly didn't imagine it!" I snap, making him flinch. He looks hurt and now I regret what I said. He didn't mean anything by it, he's obviously just appalled and doesn't know what else to say. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean that."

"No, don't apologize. I'm sorry, I just don't know exactly what to think of all this."  


A very bitter laugh involuntarily escapes my lungs as I reply, "Neither do I, trust me."

"Why do you still have the scar?"

"I was taken to a Muggle hospital because the woman was a Muggle. So was he, actually. Muggles don't have very effective ways of curing anything. After I got home, my grandmum took me to St. Mungo's and they fixed most of the cuts the glass left, but they couldn't make this one go away. *gestures at himself* I'll have to live with it forever."

"Why couldn't they fix it?"

"I don't know. *long pause* They said that it was already too healed naturally to be able 

to manipulate it magickally. Personally, I think I have it because it was something I was meant to remember. Does that sound fucked?"

Shaking his head, he sighs, "No, my love, not at all. But why do you think that you were meant to remember such a thing? I mean, that's got to be something that would haunt you with or without a scar."

Wincing at his choice of words, I can't help but smile. Tact isn't one of Draco's strong points when he gets emotional and I think it's absolutely adorable how involved he gets. Too bad this is such a wretched thing to be involved in. Though I hate to admit it, I think that this may have been a good thing: telling him. "I know it's kind of a used-up phrase, but 'what does not kill me makes me stronger' seems to be the only adequate description that applies. Maybe I've got this scar as a more physical reminder of that."

"Like a battle scar."

"Yeah. Something like that."

A proud smile crosses his face. What the hell could he be proud of? "Meaning that it is a reminder to you that you were knocked down pretty sodding hard and you stood up and overcame it just the same. Almost like a sign of strength, you know."

I think I understand why he's got that smile on his face. In all honesty, I've never really thought about it in this light before. Before now I've always put it to the back of my mind and gone on with my life, constantly trying to evade the feeling of worthlessness that always threatened to take me under when I was alone enough to brood about it. Going back to school was almost easier than it should have been. Dean was scared at how smoothly I readjusted to regular, everyday life when he had, not three days prior to that, comforted me whilst I cried my eyes out on his shoulder. Being at Hogwarts and constantly around so many people gave me a more suitable avenue to avoid dealing with the pain and degradation that singular event evoked in me. Putting it all to the back of my mind forced me to get on with life. But it never made anything better, I was merely procrastinating in a huge mother fucking way.

Draco is still sitting there with that damn smile on his face. God, I love him. It never ceases to amaze me how good he makes me feel. I never thought that anyone or anything could ever make me feel so sodding wonderful even in the face of defeat. But I am not defeated. Defeat would mean that I would not be sitting here with the most perceptive, gorgeous, intelligent creature ever to walk the face of the Earth.

Now I can't help but grin. "You know, I think that maybe you've got a point there."

We chat a bit longer, though not about anything of any real substance. I've assured him that I am fine and that I will indeed survive. He seems to be convinced that I am at least on some road to recovery and tucks me into bed, wrapping himself around me. Feeling his body so close to mine makes everything okay and makes me feel safe. Genuinely safe.

What I've realized is that what I've got to do is not to get past it or get through it or bury it. My only option is to learn what I can from what happened and learn to accept that as a part of who I am. I can't dwell on it and I can never be happy about it, but it happened and there is nothing that I can do to change that fact. All I can do is put it in my proverbial backpack and carry it with me along with all the other things that've formed me over the course of my life and continue on my way. Though I know it will not be easy or fast, Draco will be there every step of the way, helping me lighten my load.

*****

So?! How is it? Please, please, please review!; I so love hearing the thoughts of others on the things that come out of my brain.

Thanks to all of you who reviewed: annikatwist, I do hope that this pleases you as much as the last parts did. You made me blush, you know. *blows kisses* You're so sweet!; Gwen, brilliant? Aw, geez. *blushes furiously* Here's some more Draco/Seamus for you, and I promise there will be a lot more to come. I've found my pairing at last, and there's no stopping me. Mwahahahaha! So.. uh... Oh, yeah! Thanks, love, I do hope you dig this; Rubicon, what the hell can I say? You're too good to me, as always. I love you, and without you this story wouldn't have made it past _Common People_. Thanks for all your inspiration and kind words; Azzie, this isn't particularly sweet, but thank you for praising me so! I think I love you! *big, wet, sloppy kiss*; nyanko, Thankyouthankyouthankyou for seeing what a delectable creature Seamus is. For a while there I thought I was just hoping for the impossible. Thank you, lovie, you're awesome! I hope you like these new additions. You're all too good to me, really. *blows kisses* Cheers! 


	7. Only You

Body Disclaimer: Not mine. Never have been, never will be. *sighs* Oh, and that quote in there is Oscar Wilde's, so leave me alone!

Warning: There is none. MWAAHAHAHAHA!

A/N: For all of you who bitched at me for being fluffy, this is for you. So, I had the song _Only You_ in my head, and here is the result. I'm so sorry it's not better. It's not my fault, I am merely the tool of my muse. Blame her.

Only You

Ordinary is not a word I would use to describe you. There is something in your blood that simply prevents you from being ordinary. Nothing about you is ever commonplace. Unlike everyone else in the world, you are a true original. You've got this magnetism oozing from your pores that I just can't ignore. Your smile is thoroughly stunning and your cheeky sense of humour will forever prevent me from being melancholy. From the way that you walk to the way that you talk, you are simply, purely, and divinely Seamus.

Everyone around you knows how extraordinary you are; everyone sees your radiance. Even you know this, I think, though you are never arrogant. There are some beautiful things in this world that simply cannot go unnoticed. Beauty is the one thing that makes life worth living. I've always sort of fancied that you are God's proverbial portrait of Dorian Gray. Perhaps you are the reason he continues to create beautiful things. His muse. The most beautiful thing in the world, and, like a painting, your beauty will never fade. Though you will someday grow old and wrinkled, you will never cease to be beautiful. But beauty is a very fickle thing. One man's art is another man's trash. Few things are universal when beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But you, my love, are one of those universal beauties.

In the time that we have known each other, really known each other, I have learned more about life and beauty than I did in all the time before you. I distinctly remember the holiday between sixth and seventh year when you let me come home with you for a while. You were afraid to show me where you lived. You thought I was going to make fun of you. But I fell in love with it. Unlike my house, yours was warm. There were real people living there. The house itself almost felt alive with all the energy of the people in it. People who laugh and cry and love and hate and feel absolutely nothing at all with all the passion in the world.

Sterile is the only way to describe my world. Well, my world before my father was taken away. Nothing in my world could ever be touched, it could only be admired through a glass case. But you... your life has always been for living. And you have no idea how precious that is. You were never chained to someone else's idea of the way life should be. Your existence was not arranged. You were created out of real human passion. You are the product of two people's love, whereas I am a product of necessity. My mother loves me more than anything; I know that, she's told me so. But she never planned on having children. Lucius only impregnated her because he needed an heir. Selfish fuck. But the nine months your mother carried you were spent in cheerful anticipation. Mine were spent in indifferent resignation.

I also remember the journey to the pub down the street from your old house. All sorts of people from all walks of life were there. Folks with only enough cutter left over from paying the bills to buy a hot mead. Then there were those who bought round after round of the best scotch money can buy, just because they could. Or the old man at the end of the bar who sat talking, though no one really listened. If you did, you might find that he took up that seat as a result of his wife's death. And then there was us and a few of the kids you grew up with. They seemed unaware of the separation between you and I. They seemed to think that I came from the same walk of life as the rest of you.

For the first time in my life I was on the same plane as everyone around me. I had been accepted for the first time in my entire life. As much as we would both have liked to believe I was wearing a mask that night, we both knew that it was the first time I had ever really been in my own skin. That is one of the greatest and most beautiful things you have ever shown me: what it is like to be in my own skin. You showed me that it is a beautiful thing and not to waste it by being petty and cold and full of prejudices. Before I met you, I never knew that I could be beautiful. Before I met you I _wasn't_ beautiful.

I've been watching you from across the room for the last ten minutes. You've been standing with Sirius and my mother, talking about god only knows what. They have been laughing since you joined them, like there aren't at least a hundred other people milling about. You've got their undivided attention, and given the circumstances of the occasion, I am thoroughly stunned and amazed. But then again, you do have the ability to draw others in like no one I have ever met before. That's you: my alluring faerie in a man's body.

"The world has changed because you are made of ivory and gold. The curves of your lips rewrite history." That statement was made for you. If not for you Voldemort would be ruling the world, my mother would still be chained to Lucius' side instead of joined with Sirius like she is now, and half of these people would be six feet under. If not for you I would be six feet under. I know I couldn't have lived with myself after my brief stint as a Death Eater if I hadn't met you. You washed away all of my sins and picked me out of the dirt. No one else ever even tried to do what you did. And for that I owe you my everything. For that, I am all for you.

*****

See. Told you it was bad.

Thanks to all of you who reviewed previous installments: 


	8. It's All About Perspective

Body Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine blah blah blah They belong to JKR blah blah bl- you get the idea.

Warning: Sap, gay romance, the usual. Fuck off if you don't like it because I don't need to hear what a wretched human being I am.

A/N: *trumpets sound* It's done! It's over! This is the last of an absolutely smashing journey, so please do enjoy.

It's All About Perspective

Sometimes I wonder how I ever survived without him. We've been together almost seven years now and it may as well be forever. Stunning, that we have has never become common place. Usually after that long, attention tends to drift in your average, run-of-the-mill relationship. We certainly don't have your average, run-of-the-mill relationship, and that's putting it mildly. We've got more passion and love for each other than most of those who have just recently fallen in love. They say that familiarity breeds contempt, but that is definitely not true for us. Familiarity has only added to the sheer pleasure of being with one another. Our friends tell us that we're lucky, that they envy us for what we've found in each other. Sometimes I wonder how something as wonderful as this never happens for most people. When I look at Harry and Justin, I would like to think they've got what we've got, but they don't. I think that this is largely due to their lack of communication. For two of the sweetest and most sensitive people in the world, they sure are blind to each other's emotions. I think that this is because neither of them are really ready to accept the fact that they can't live without each other. They're still both caught up in their own worlds where everyone wants them and for them to just get over it and settle down, so to speak, would be unthinkable. They're almost cute, though, in comparison to Draco and me. We're nowhere near cute, but, from what I've been told, we're dead fucking sexy. And I wish I could deny it, but I just can't. From the way that we look together to the way that we talk together to the way that we _are_ together, we are simply, purely, and divinely fucking _gorgeous_. Please, don't misconstrue what I say here; I'm not meaning to come off as some kind of self-centered egomaniac. All I mean to say is that he makes me feel beautiful, and when we're together we're all that times about a hundred and ten. It sounds so cheesy and typical for me to say that I've found my soul-mate, but that's exactly what he is. He epitomizes every wonderful quality I have ever looked for in another human being, even with all his irritating little habits. I know that I've got them, too, so I've really no room to be talking. But at least I've got no illusions about it. I am what I am and I won't make any moves to deny it. It's just so hard for me to feel anything but bliss and heaven when I know that he's always going to be there no matter what. Sometimes I wonder if I should feel guilty about my feelings for him, especially since he is of the male persuasion as well. It seems that no matter where we are or who we meet, there is always something or someone that makes it sound like what we do is reprehensible. When I was younger and first starting to recognize sexuality and all of that which it entails, it seemed to be thrown at me all the time, how bloody wrong it is. For a while I wanted to hide it from the world and especially from myself. I had a few silly interludes with girls and always found myself totally disinterested with them. Then I just gave it up and admitted that what I am is what I am. I no longer feel ashamed of the way my heart and body work, I am proud of it. Not that I dig gay pride. All I mean is that I am cool with my sexuality and I am happy knowing that there's a person I can go home to who is going to love me as fiercely as I love him. And it doesn't take any 'gay pride' shite or hedonistic tripe for me to be able to say that and be totally comfortable with it. As the Muggle, John Lennon, once sang, 'All you need is love/ Love is all you need'. Yeah, so it's that flower-child crap we have all come to resent for it's blatant hypocrisy, but there is a very simple and very universal message in that statement. Draco has taught me that it doesn't matter what gender you happen to be most attracted to, how much money you have, or how pretty you are. He's taught me that if the whole stinking world were to crash down around us, we will always have each other. And that's worth more than being wanted by anyone else any day.

*****

So? Sap beyond all hope? Fluff beyond belief? Please do let me know, and if you would like to see more in this particular series I might be willing to see what I could do, though if you didn't get enough of Draco and/or Seamus (but really, who can EVER get enough of either one of them?) you might do to read some of the other things I've written. So.. uh... Cheers!

Thanks again to all of you who reviewed! 


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